


You're my world, so will you let me into yours?

by Khoshekh42



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:34:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24081385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khoshekh42/pseuds/Khoshekh42
Summary: The one where The Iron Bull has a teenage child left in his lap by her mother, even though Bull is currently working in the middle of a warzone. Despite Bull's good intentions with leaving Sataa with her mother, it didn't go as well as Bull had hoped, and Sataa doesn't like Bull in the slightest.Yet. Bull is determined to get on his daughter's good side.In the meantime, he and Dorian are struggling to deal with their romantic feelings for each other.Can Bull manage to get Dorian's heart, while earning his daughter's love and forgiveness at the same time?
Relationships: Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus, Iron Bull/Original Female Character(s), Past:
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13
Collections: Actually Adoribull Fic





	1. Chapter 1

Dorian, Bull, and Laera had been relaxing at the Herald’s Rest—A rare occurrence these days—when Bull froze mid-sentence. Dorian furrowed his eyebrows, trying in his semi-drunken state to figure out why Bull was doing that. Laera had seemed to figure out what had happened because she was staring in shock to a point behind Dorian’s back.

A woman’s voice rung out, above the din of the tavern, above Maryden’s rendition of ‘Empress of Fire’:

“Hissrad!” She shouted, sounding pissed off.

Dorian, Laera, and Bull all bristled at the name.

A Qunari woman marched up next to Bull, hands on her hips, “You said you’d be back, you told me you’d get me my money.”

Dorian wondered vaguely what Bull had done to be in debt to someone, Bull generally seemed like the type to pay people back in full and on time.

Bull huffed, “Yeah, well, I assumed you’d have realized things had changed when a great fucking hole opened up in the sky and a Vinty bastard tried to kill everyone.”

The woman laughed mirthlessly, “Do you realize how expensive this shit is, Hissrad?”

Dorian gave a fake smile to the woman, “That’s not his name.”

She ignored Dorian entirely, “Listen, I don’t—”

“I can pay, Shok.” Bull said, getting angrier than Dorian had seen him, “It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just that I’ve been doing my job. It’s difficult to get enough free time every month to go gallivanting to the ends of the world when Corypheus has been doing this shit.” He waved his hand through the air as if to emphasize his point—that they were in a tavern full of soldiers preparing for the end of the world, that they were in Skyhold and not in Haven.

“I don’t just want your money, Hissrad. You’ll pay me back for the months you’ve missed, sure… but I’m not doing this shit anymore.”

Bull looked briefly confused, as Krem stood from his spot nearby, “Hey, why don’t you piss off and leave the Chief be, huh?”

Shok looked scathing as she looked from Krem back to Bull, “You really still can’t get anyone better for your little ‘group’ than a bitch who thinks she can be a man?”

Krem looked ready to punch the woman out, but Bull stuck out his hand in an ‘I’ll handle this’ motion.

“How about you leave my _men_ be, and you and I can sort this out outside?” He growled.

“Really?” She smirked, looking haughty, “I don’t think you’d want _Sataa_ to see that, would you?” She jerked her head towards the door.

Bull, who’d been angrily standing up, sat back down in shock, glancing back behind Dorian at the door. His whole expression changed, became softer, sad, almost frightened.

“You don’t plan to—” Bull started, looking back at Shok.

“Goodbye, Hissrad. You know where to find me so that you can pay me.” And with that, she left the tavern, pushing past a young Qunari who was standing in the doorway.

“Shok! This is a warzone, you can’t just—” But she was already gone.

The young Qunari—who Dorian could only assume was Sataa—looked pissed off, and about ready to cry. She couldn’t have been more than thirteen or fourteen.

Bull began standing again, “Sataa, I…”

“What makes you think I want to talk to _you_?”

Bull looked heartbroken at the malice in her voice. “I- I’m sorry, Kadan, I—”

“Don’t you fucking _dare_ call me that.”

Bull looked almost ready to cry now himself, without words.

Dorian stood, walking across the tavern to the Qunari girl still standing in the doorway, deciding that Bull needed a moment to himself to think, “Hello. My name is Dorian Pavus, did that woman say your name was Sataa?”

“Yeah…” She seemed a little less pissed off now that Shok wasn’t there and Bull wasn’t the one trying to talk to her.

“Now, I won’t pretend to know your story, but The Iron Bull happens to be a very good friend of mine, so I think he deserves at least a bit of time to explain whatever grievances he might have committed against you. Do you think that’s fair enough? Just a couple minutes at least.”

“I wouldn’t expect a man from _Tevinter—High class_ Tevinter—going off your fashion sense, to understand what having a shitty father will do to you.”

Dorian, still somewhat tipsy and not quite registering the implications of what Sataa was saying, gave a bit of a snort, “Ah, but now you’re presuming my story. Isn’t it lovely how one’s background has no bearing on how shitty of a father one might have? _My_ father is probably a step below yours, unless yours happened to have tried to change a key part of who you are using blood magic too? I doubt yours even hates you at all, you seem like a pleasant young woman to me.”

“I dunno,” She snarled, “Why don’t you ask him?” She pointed back at Bull, “Though, he hasn’t really been around enough to really know whether or not he hates me.”

Dorian blinked a few times, his brain finally catching up on the situation around him.

Dorian wasn’t fooled by The Iron Bull’s outward appearance, not anymore. At first, Dorian had let his prejudices cloud his vision and make him think that Bull would be a vicious monster with no regard for life, human or otherwise. Instead, Bull was a total sweetheart. Often times, when he thought that Dorian wasn’t around (usually when Dorian was snooping, although he would never admit out loud that’s what he was doing), Dorian would catch him humming softly, or even—on one memorable occasion—knitting.

(Despite Bull’s true softer nature, Dorian wasn’t ever going to tell him about his own softer feelings towards Bull.)

Besides, however much Dorian knew about The Iron Bull’s humming, or his knitting, he never would have expected this.

“Sataa, please,” Bull seemed to have found his voice finally, “Its not because I wanted to leave you, I just didn’t want you to have anything to do with the Ben-Hassrath, or my mercenary work.” He had started crossing the tavern that had gone completely silent at the scene, to kneel in front of Sataa. “Once I was declared Tal-Vashoth, I didn’t want you around the Inquisition because I didn’t want the risk of Corypheus finding you.”

Sataa was scowling, eyes fiery. “So, what? you leave me with _her_ , who fucking despises me, who only kept me around because it’d be suspicious if I went missing?”

“I promise that if I’d known how she truly felt then I would have worked something out, gotten you out of there.”

“You _abandoned_ me!” She screamed, tears finally streaming down her face.

And Bull—The Iron Bull, mercenary, Former Ben-Hassrath—sat down on the floor and began to cry as well.

Even as Dorian was in a strange panic of trying to figure out what he was supposed to be doing, Laera walked over and put her hand softly on Sataa’s shoulder, “Hey. I’m Laera Lavellan, I’m kind of in charge around here? How about I show you around Skyhold while, um, while your father and Dorian pull themselves together.” She shot a nasty look towards Dorian that made him think that he was going to be in trouble later. Though for what, he couldn’t quite be sure (even if he was sure he probably deserved it.)

Sataa, despite how upset she’d just been with Bull, was now eyeing him with a strange guilt, as if she hadn’t meant to upset him that much, or that she hadn’t expected him to cry. Dorian suspected it was some of both. After all, despite having known Bull for some time, _he_ hadn’t expected him to cry.

As Laera tilted her head to motion for them to leave, Sataa paused to look at her father, looking like she was about to say something. She decided against it and followed Laera out the door.

Dorian took a pause to briefly let the whole scene register fully with him, and as it finally did so, he stood and walked to Cabot, telling him quietly to get him a tankard of water. Cabot quickly complied, despite his usual annoyance with Dorian. (Who knew that bartenders preferred to get paid?)

With the water in tow, Dorian walked back to where Bull was kneeling on the floor, “Hey Bull,” He told him softly, “Let’s head out for a minute. Get some quiet.”

Bull stood, eyes somewhat hollow and dead as he was seemingly done crying, and he followed Dorian out of the Herald’s Rest.

Krem slipped out of the tavern to follow them, and Dorian was almost relieved, hoping that he would have better insight into what to say to Bull in this particular situation.

Dorian got to the main door before he knew exactly where to go, but as he did, goal in mind, he led them to Skyhold’s old, secret library.

“Hey, Chief.” Krem’s voice was quiet as they sat down gently in the rickety old chairs, hoping they wouldn’t break under Bull’s considerable weight.

Dorian silently handed the water to Bull, who accepted it with similar silence.

“I fucked up, Krem.”

“Yeah.” Krem agreed softly, simply, “That doesn’t mean you have to keep on fucking up, though.”

“It’s not like things are going to be magically fixed by morning, Krem, these things don’t just… heal.”

“Oh, I never said it’d be easy, but you’re you, so it can be done.”

“Bull…” Dorian spoke up, earning him a swift warning look from Krem, “I know a thing or two about shitty fathers, and I know enough that I don’t think you’ll be one. I think…” Dorian paused, wondering if he should actually continue, whether “I think that Sataa feels lonely, her mother despises her, she feels that her father couldn’t care less about her—however false that may be—” Dorian added at the look that passed over Bull’s face when he’d said it, “She needs someone who’ll be there for her. She looks to be barely a teenager, and that’s a tough time for anyone. You’re a good person, Bull, she’ll warm up to you sooner than you might think.”

“You said it, though, she needs someone to be there for her? How am I supposed to do that with Corypheus taking a shit on us every other week?”

“Easy one, boss.” Krem as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “You take a break. Take some belated paternity leave.”

“But I—”

“I can take care of the Chargers just fine. Don’t worry about us, or about this Vinty little shit,” He nudged Dorian, “Or even about the Inquisitor. You’re not the only capable person here. Take a break to spend time with your daughter, Chief. That’ll mean more to everyone who cares about you in the long run.”

Bull was silent for a long time, staring down into the now-empty tankard in his hands.

“One condition,” He finally said, glancing nervously at Dorian, “I don’t really have a lot of experience with… y’know, family.” He gestured vaguely towards his horns, “And I don’t have the luxury to fuck this up any further, so… Dorian, if you’re okay with it,” He looked somewhere past Dorian’s left ear, “I’d like you to stay and help. Advice on what not to do, shit like that.”

Krem smirked, seemed to think this was amusing somehow.

But Dorian was blinking, somewhat shocked that he seemed to think that this was a decent idea. “Bull, I have to warn you I would make a shitty father myself.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he flushed deeply, “N-not that that’s what I’d be or anything, I-I’m not saying—”

But, for the first time since Shok had arrived with Sataa, Bull laughed.

Dorian couldn’t find it in him to say no.

“Alright, but _I_ have a condition of my own.” Dorian said, trying to sound as haughty and snooty as he could, “You shan’t be allowed to wear any of those garish shirts you see fathers wearing in markets, and if you even think about wearing socks and sandals, I shall rescind the acceptance and flee for fear of the lack of a decent fashion sense catching.”

Bull gave him a small smile, “I’ll try. Just for you, I’ll try.”

“Well,” Krem stood with his smirk still firmly in place, “I’ll take that as my cue to leave. I’ll be in the tavern if you need me, Chief.” He gave a small nod of gratitude to Dorian, slid his eyes to Bull and winked with a wicked grin before taking his leave.

Dorian didn’t even attempt to analyze what that might have meant.

They sat together awkwardly for a minute before Bull glanced around, finally seeming to take in the room around them. “I didn’t realize this room was even _here._ ”

“Not many people do. Though Maker knows how big this fucking place is really. _How_ Solas found it is beyond me.” Dorian sighed, “I think Laera should complain. Her boyfriend gave her a castle, but it’s just too big.”

“That’s what she said.” Bull muttered under his breath.

Dorian paused, staring at Bull in gentle amusement for a moment, “You disgust me.”

Bull gave a small huff of amusement at that. With a pause, he smiled sincerely, if a little sadly at Dorian, “Hey, thanks. It’s, um, it’s a lot to ask of someone, so… thanks.”

Dorian opened his mouth to make a joke, wave it off like it was nothing, “Of course. I want you to be happy, and this is the way to do it.” His ears tinted red at the sentiment that he hadn’t meant to express, but that was real all the same.

They sat in the library for some time, until Sera poked her head in, “Laera says that you should head to the bedroom next to yours when you’re ready, yeah? No idea why—but maybe she’s finally giving up on that elfy-stick-up-his-arse whatever! He’s certainly let her down enough.” And with that final statement, she ran off.

Dorian blinked, brain catching up to process Sera’s ramblings. “Well then. _Are_ you ready?”

With the panicked expression that manifested on Bull’s face, it was clear that he was not, in fact, ready.

“It’s alright. We can sit here for a moment.” Dorian wasn’t great at the whole comforting thing, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try.

“What do I even say to her? I haven’t seen her grow up, I don’t know her hobbies, she was right, Dorian, I _don’t_ know her.”

“Then… Show an interest.” Dorian said, “Show an interest, and fake it ‘til you make it if you must. Don’t have to honestly give a damn about what she’s interested in, but at least pretend like you are.”

Bull looked confused, “But, she’s my daughter?”

Now it was Dorian who was confused, “…And?”

“Why wouldn’t I be interested in what she’s interested in?”

Dorian gave a rueful and (admittedly undignified) snort, “You really don’t know how to be a bad father, Bull. Trust me, you’re already miles ahead of my father.”

Dorian stood. “Now, we’re going to get you to go see your daughter, and she’s going to love you. Maybe not immediately but trust me on this. You’re an extremely lovable man, Bull.” He held out his hand for Bull to take and shut his mouth before he said anything he truly regretted.

Bull took his hand with a sort of small smile, and let Dorian lead him out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heavy stuff involving the blood magic incident with Halward 'Piece of Shit' Pavus.
> 
> TW for homophobia, TW for blood, TW for description of Halward's """""conversion therapy"""""

As they approached the room in which they could hear Laera’s familiar voice, Dorian took pause to look towards Bull.

“Are you alright?” He asked quietly, and—he hoped—comfortingly.

“No.” Bull answered, truthful as always, “But if she forgives me, then I will be.” He sighed, “I know I can’t force her to like me, Dorian. But… I just don’t know what I’d do if I lost her.” His eyes fogged, and he gave a small smile, “She used to be so excited to see what I’d brought her each time I visited. I would always bring her trinkets from my travels—a chunk of drakestone from the Hinterlands, a dragonling tooth from the Hissing Wastes, that sort of thing. She was just so _happy_.” Bull’s smile became bitter, “It’s fucking awful that she’s so unhappy now, and that it’s at least partly my fault.”

Dorian nodded along, “You’ll fix things. I know you.”

Bull paused, seeming to consider something, before stepping forward and wrapping his arms around Dorian’s shoulders.

“Thank you, Dorian. Truly, I don’t know how I can thank you.”

Dorian patted Bull awkwardly on the back, “Well, you could get Cabot off my back about paying him. _Some_ of us volunteered to help and aren’t getting massive amounts of coin from doing all this.”

Bull laughed, hearty and from somewhere deep, and it was the best sound Dorian had ever heard, and he knew that he would do anything to keep hearing it.

Dorian gave an ‘after you’ gesture, and—with a pause to work up courage—Bull entered the room.

Sataa stood as Bull walked in, looking at him with a sort of firm apprehension. She spoke before Bull was able to get a word in:

“Laera seems to trust you, and I sure as hell don’t, but… I’ll give you a chance. If you fuck this up, Hissrad, I’ll—” She paused as Bull flinched at the name.

“…You don’t go by Hissrad. Sorry.” She looked genuinely apologetic. “But the point stands, The Iron Bull. I’m not giving you chance after chance here. You left me with that vile woman, and I’m not going to deal with shit like that again.”

Bull nodded solemnly. “Of course. I wouldn’t expect any more. If you don’t mind…” He said hesitantly, “Dorian might help me figuring some of this shit out. Sataa, I _do_ care about you, and I can’t stand the idea of fucking this up again.” Bull sat down on the edge of the bed that Sataa was sitting on, “I know I fucked up. Bad. And I don’t ask for your forgiveness in that, but at least allow me time to figure this out. I shouldn’t be new to parenting when I have a fourteen-year-old daughter, but I am. I’ll need time to understand how this will work.”

She smiled sadly at him, and Dorian wondered if she was remembering how their interactions used to go.

“I’ll give you your Dorian to help. You’ll probably need it.”

Dorian shivered at the thought that someone needed him—that _Bull_ needed him.

Bull looked so relieved that Sataa had agreed to let Dorian help him, “Thank you.”

“Whatever. If he’s gonna be getting up all in my business, he’s gonna have to share some things about himself first.”

Dorian paused, but smiled easily, “Alright, I’m an open book. What do you want to know?”

“You said you had a shitty father, what’s that about?” She asked, the look in her eyes telling Dorian that she knew exactly how invasive he was being.

Bull gave him look that said clearly that Dorian could back out, not spill his shitty past with a girl that he’d only just met.

But it was for _Bull_. Bull who looked so helpless beyond his mountainous exterior at the moment, Bull who just wanted to get to know his daughter, Bull who Dorian was as irrevocably in love with Bull as he was a mage or as he was gay as the day was long.

How could Dorian possibly say no to that?

“Ah, well, as you could tell from my accent and my impeccable fashion sense, I was high class Tevinter. Son of a Magister. House Pavus. My _father_ ,” Dorian said this in the sort of tone one might refer to a particularly oozy and slimy slug in, “Decided he wasn’t okay with my favoring the company of men, especially because I was refusing to live my life hating some other Magister’s poor daughter who I would inevitably be married off to, so he decided to… Change me.” Dorian’s voice became soft, and he hated that he was still just as affected by what happened as he was when he was the day he left. He hated that he could still smell the horrible stench of blood as it coated the floor, feel it soaking into his shoes, and see it dripping, dripping, dripping from his father’s hands. He hated the way his own hands shook slightly whenever he talked about it. He hated the pity he could see in Bull’s face, in Laera’s face. He hated that he couldn’t think clearly about any of it without practically collapsing in on himself.

Sometimes, on the worst days, the days where something had happened to remind him of it so vividly, whether it be the intonation of someone’s voice, or the sharp smell of blood, or something else that should have been insignificant, Dorian hated himself, hated being gay, and he would long for his old life, but free from the distractions of men.

But most of all he hated that he still cared about it all. Tevinter, his father, his old life.

Dorian shifted back into focus when he felt a large hand at his shoulder.

“Yes,” He swallowed the bile that had been rising in his throat down, “Well, you know Tevinter.” He tried to sound casual, “My father was attempting to perform a blood magic ritual to make me _not_ gay, and when I realized what it was he was trying to do… I ran. Haven’t been back to Tevinter since.”

There was a tense silence in the room.

“Well.” Dorian said, more tersely than he’d wanted, “I should let you two catch up.” He stood, turned tail, and quickly left before Bull—who had opened his mouth—had a chance to say anything.

Dorian was quick to get to his own room, shutting the door behind him before he allowed any tears to fall from his eyes.

“ _Fuck!”_ He kicked his bedpost, hard.

He slumped down to sit on his bed, and he’d only just buried his face in his hands when there was a soft knock on the door.

“Dorian?” Asked Bull from the other side, “Can I come in?”

Dorian could feel himself shaking, but whether that was with fear or rage he couldn’t place.

“Yeah.” He croaked out, ashamed and annoyed by his own body betraying him.

The door creaked open, and Bull ducked through to join Dorian, closing the door behind him.

“I’m really sorry she asked that. I don’t think she realized how out of bounds it was. She said she feels bad.” He sat down on the bed next to Dorian, causing it to creak dangerously.

“Yes, well, I’m sorry for getting so… emotional.” Dorian said, awkward and unused to apologizing for his actions.

“Fuck, Dorian, no one can blame you for that, _I’d_ be traumatized by all that shit, too.”

“But it was so _long_ ago!” Dorian said, finally letting out his frustrations, “Why can’t I just _get over it_. I _know_ he’s a piece of shit, and I _know_ I hate him, so I can’t I just…” He floundered for a sentiment.

“Stop caring?” Bull offered, “Kinda how I feel about the Qunari. I know I’m Tal-Vashoth, so why do I still want to defend the Qun?”

“Yeah.” Dorian said, softly, sadly. “I just want to stop caring.”

After a minute of silence, Dorian spoke up again, “You know, I think I gave him the idea to use blood magic. To try to change me.”

Bull looked at him, confused.

The conversation that he’d had with his father a week before he’d tried the ritual echoed in his head.

 _“‘Tē auxiliābor, Dorian.’”_ Dorian quoted, _“‘De tē, modo optimam volo. Tē amo.’”_

“‘I want to help you,’ he said. ‘For you, I want only the best,’ he said. ‘I love you,’ he said.” Dorian translated.

“And then I replied, stupidly, _‘Non mē amas, ālium mē mūtātus erās a tē amas.’._ ‘You don’t love me, you love a different me, having been changed by you.” Dorian said ruefully.

“Dorain…” Bull’s voice was thick, “Don’t blame yourself for something your father did. He’s at fault here. You’re…” He paused, as if considering saying something, “Not.” He finished awkwardly, a flush coming to his face.

“Thanks.” Dorian said quietly.

“Anytime.” He sounded like he meant it.

Lost in the past, Dorian sighed, and leaned his head against Bull’s shoulder.

Bull didn’t seem to mind, carding his fingers through Dorian’s hair in an attempt to relax him.

Dorian knew if he were less exhausted, less drained, he would try to object. (Under the guise of not messing up his hair, but really to save himself the embarrassment of being so close to Bull.)

But for now, he let it happen. Let himself feel safe. Let himself rest in Bull’s arms.


End file.
